It's Friday
by Horch
Summary: Just after the second Rebellion, Katniss and the others find a CD containing an extremely dangerous song from the past - Friday by Rebecca Black - that just might change their lives forever, for better or for worse.  Not meant to offend Rebecca Black.
1. Katniss and Peeta

**Title: It's Friday (Title is subject to change.)  
>Summary: Just after the second Rebellion, Katniss and the others find a CD containing an extremely dangerous song from the past-Friday by Rebecca Black-that just might change their lives forever, for better or for worse.<strong>

(Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little. But basically, this story is about the reactions of the different Hunger Games characters upon hearing Friday by Rebecca Black. I do not own Friday, nor do I own The Hunger Games.) **I apologize to all those who like Rebecca Black. I don't really like her songs.**

**Please review. No flames please! :3**

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><p><span>Katniss and Peeta<span>

"Hey Katniss, you should listen to this," Peeta says, tossing me a CD marked 'Rebecca Black'. I shrug. I open the lid of the CD player Effie gave us for Christmas and place it in. I close it and hit the play button on the remote control.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
><em>_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs  
><em>_Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
><em>_Seein' everything the time is goin'_

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
><em>_Gotta get down to the bus stop  
><em>_Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat  
><em>_Sittin' in the back seat  
><em>_Gotta make my mind up  
><em>_Which seat can I take?_

_It's Friday, Friday,__  
>Gotta get down on Friday<br>Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend  
><em>_Friday, Friday,  
><em>_Gettin' down on Friday  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend  
><em>_Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah  
><em>_Fun, fun, fun, fun, lookin' forward to the weekend…_

I instantly hit the stop button. "PEETA!" I scream. "What is this crap?"

"It's Friday by Rebecca Black. It was recorded thousands of years ago, way before Panem existed. Johanna found it in her compartment in District Thirteen," Peeta replies. "Then she sent it to me, saying, 'it was something that would blow your mind off.' And it most certainly did."

"I'm going to rip her throat out," I mutter.


	2. Effie Trinket

**I do not mean to offend Rebecca Black. This is just a parody-ish fic. xD**

**Please review! And no flaming, please. :D**

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><p>Today is another big, big day.<p>

I neatly gobble up my scrambled eggs and head outside. Yesterday, Katniss called me and told me about someone sending me a copy of a song called 'Friday'. I can't wait to see what Katniss meant! I pull open the door of my mailbox and find a really bulky envelope inside addressed, 'To Effie.' I place it inside my purse, close the mailbox and head back inside.

I sit down on the couch and cross my legs in a ladylike manner. After all, wouldn't it be appalling to see a woman like me sitting in such a… boyish manner? Of course it would. I carefully take out the envelope from my purse and open it.

Inside the envelope is one of those things. The thing shaped like a big circle with a small hole in the middle. What's it called…? Oh yes. I remember now. It's called a CD. Written on the CD in black marker is, "Friday by Rebecca Black."

I carefully stick it into the CD player I bought at the mall a few months ago.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning__  
><em>_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs__  
><em>_Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal__  
><em>_Seein' everything the time is goin'…_

The song is quite catchy, actually. I like this song…

_It's Friday, Friday,__  
><em>_Gotta get down on Friday__  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend__  
><em>_Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah__  
><em>_Lookin' forward to the weekend…_

I keep listening until the end of the song. And then I hit the replay button and listen to it again.


	3. Haymitch Abernathy

**Again, as I've said in the previous chapters, I do not hate Rebecca Black. I just hate her music.  
><strong>

**But anyway, thank you everyone for all the positive feedback! I WILL continue this story, don't worry. But if it seems like I disappeared off the face of the earth or something, please forgive me.**

**The usual: Please review! And no flames, please!**

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><p>I pick up my bottle of wine and drink until the world starts to spin. And then I go and lie down on my bed to take a nap with my knife safely inside my pocket so I won't somehow stab myself to death in my sleep. Not that I won't mind that.<p>

But before I could even get to the bed, some idiot sounds the stupid doorbell. I groan. I don't want to answer that door…

"Haymitch!" the visitor says sharply, pounding on the door repeatedly. "OPEN THE DOOR!" Oh. It's Peeta. Or is it Katniss? It's hard to tell. I stagger towards the door and open it, just so the visitor could stop trying to destroy my door.

The visitor isn't Peeta. The visitor isn't even Katniss. It's that kid from District Seven, Johanna Mason.

"Well, well, well," I murmur, "Johanna Mason. What brings you here…?" She glares at me.

"Nice to see you too, Haymitch," she replies sarcastically. "Well, I'm here to show you something. Or rather, make you listen to something." She holds out her hand and shows me a small object with some holes on it. She presses the button that says 'Play'. "Listen to this."

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning__  
><em>_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs__  
><em>_Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal__  
><em>_Seein' everything the time is goin'_

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'__  
><em>_Gotta get down to the bus stop__  
><em>_Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends…_

Johanna hits the 'Play' button again and to my relief, it finally stops. I take a deep breath. "Well?" Johanna asks breathlessly. "What do you think?"

"Is this a song you wrote or something?" I mutter just loud enough for Johanna to hear me.

"No," she replies.

"Well, do you know what I think? This song is absolute ****!" I grab the machine from her. "The singer is a *****!" I take out my knife. "And you know what? Anyone who likes this song is a retard!" I stab the machine with my knife until about a thousand pieces of it are embedded in my hand. Johanna does not react. She doesn't even look surprised.

"Yes, I know," she replies. "It terribly disappointed me when I found out the singer of this song died a long time ago." And with that, she leaves.

_Good_, I think. _Now I can get back to my drinking. _And I do.


	4. Annie and Finn

**For the millionth time, I do not mean to offend Rebecca Black. Just saying. I don't mean to sound cruel or anything. This fic is about the reactions of the Hunger Games characters if they heard Friday. I'm not saying all the reactions are bad. Please don't make that mistake. Someone I know already made that mistake. **

**I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black in any way, nor do I own The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, though I really want to own the latter. No copyright infringement intended...**

**To clear things up, Finn is Finnick and Annie's son. **

**Please review. And please don't flame.**

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><p>"What comes after Thursday, Finn?" I ask my three year old son. He ignores me and toddles over to the music player and presses the 'Play' button. The CD starts playing—<em>Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday, today it is Friday, Friday, we, we, we so excited, we so excited…<em>

"Friday," he replies. I press the 'Stop' button on the player and take out the disc. 'Friday by Rebecca Black' is written there in permanent marker. Green permanent marker. Just like Finn's eyes. Just like Finnick's eyes. I put back the CD and press the 'Play' button again.

Finn listens to it intently.

_It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday,  
><em>_Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend  
><em>_Friday, Friday, gettin' down on Friday,  
><em>_Everybody's looking forward to the weekend  
><em>_Partyin', partyin' yeah, partyin', partyin' yeah  
><em>_Fun, fun, fun, fun, looking forward to the weekend._

And then that 'Yesterday was Thursday' part comes on again.

"Friday," Finn says again.

I think I actually like this song. It's not that bad, really. It's a catchy song. It's also educational—I mean, just look at Finn. 'Friday' taught him the days of the week. I don't see what's so bad about it, because so far, this is the only song that effectively taught Finn what came after Thursday.

Finn is a smart boy, but just like his father, he doesn't have an attention span long enough to listen to me telling him that Friday came after Thursday. This song actually saved me a lot of time, which could be spent cleaning the house, and visiting Finnick, and watching television, and visiting Finnick…

I stop the player. "What day is it today, Finn?"

"Friday," he replies.

I laugh. "No, Finn, today is Thursday."


	5. Cato

**Once you read this chapter, you are probably going to ask: "Is Cato gay?" And I'm going to warn you ahead of time. Cato is not gay. I'm sorry for any OOCness. I never wrote in Cato's POV before. Now, if you read the previous chapters, you'd know I don't mean to offend Rebecca Black. **

**I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black, or the Hunger Games. I don't own Facebook either.**

**If you review, you'll get a cookie. :D (::) Just don't flame, please.**

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><p>Afterlife is good. No, really. It is. Afterlife is just like Earth, except there's no more pain, no more suffering. I, the awesome Cato, am willing to acknowledge this fact.<p>

Every morning, I wake up in this really soft bed, not unlike my bed in District Two. And then, I am free to go anywhere I want, as long as I stay within the boundaries of Afterlife. Usually, on really good days, I go to the Afterlife equivalent of the Training Center in the Capitol. I can practice throwing spears there. On not-so-good days, I go to the room that has many computers.

Did I just contradict myself?

No, of course not. The amazing Cato—a.k.a. me—is always right. Except for when I thought that I was going to win the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. Oh, and also when I thought that Lover Boy was going to die.

Okay, so maybe not always.

I did not contradict myself. But just to clear up any misunderstandings, I will change my sentence. _On days that I feel bored, though, I go to the room that has many computers._

Well, today happens to be one of those days.

I walk over to the guy supervising the use of computers and tell him, "I want to use a computer."

"Yeah sure," he says. "Go ahead. Just… be careful while using the Internet. You might accidentally contact a living person, and that can seriously mess things up." I don't bother to nod. I just walk over to the nearest computer and take my seat there. I look at the person next to me. Oh. It's Clove.

She turns to me. "Hey, Cato," he says. "How's the Afterlife?"

"Yo," I reply, "the Afterlife's great." I open my Facebook account and type on the bar that allows me to post my status: _Chillin' in the Afterlife with Clove. Really bored. _I click the 'Share' button. Instantly, I get three notifications.

_Clove likes your status._

_Finnick Odair likes your status._

_Clove and Finnick Odair commented on your status. _I click on the third notification, and I see the comments.

Finnick Odair: _"I miss Annie." _Well, that came out of nowhere.  
>Clove: <em>"Listen to Friday by Rebecca Black."<em>

I open a new tab, and go to YouTube. Then, I search: Friday by Rebecca Black. I click the third result that shows up. The music starts playing and Clove stands up, shoots me a glare then leaves the room without another word. It's only when I actually start listening to it do I find out why.

_It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday,  
><em>_Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend,  
><em>_Friday, Friday, gettin' down on Friday…_

What an awful song. It should die! I hit the power button, which shuts down the computer. I take out my knife—which I smuggled into the Afterlife—and stab the screen. I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. That. Stupid. Song. Again! The supervisor looks at me like I'm crazy and starts running towards me. I push him away and exit the room.

I was wrong. Really wrong. Afterlife does have pain, and it happens to come in the form of Friday by Rebecca Black.


	6. Gale Hawthorne

**Gale! :D  
>I'm sorry if Gale is a bit OOC. You know it's kind of ironic that I'm a beta-reader but I can't even see my own mistakes. So I had my former English teacher beta-read this for me. xD<br>****"Do you have some sort of problem with hubris?" No, I don't. **

**I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins or even Baby by Justin Bieber. (_Baby, baby, baby, oh)_ lol. xD **

**Please review. No flames please. :3**

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><p>I plop down on the couch, exhausted but glad to finally be home. I sigh and close my eyes. I am just about to drift off when all of a sudden, Posy comes and shouts, "Hey, Gale!"<p>

My eyes snap open. "What do you want, Posy? And where are Rory and Vick?"

Posy doesn't look offended or anything. In fact, she looks happier than I've ever seen her. I wonder why? "Rory is helping Mom do the rounds and stuff. Vick… he said he was going to a friend's house. Well, anyway, I learned a new song today, Gale! It's called Friday! Do you want to hear it?" Posy asks me excitedly. I resist the urge to slap my forehead.

"Maybe some other time, Posy," I reply. "I want to sleep."

"Okay," Posy says. "I'll turn on the radio. Maybe it will help you relax. If you need me, I'll be in my room." She plugs the radio to the nearest socket. She switches it on, and weird music starts playing—_Baby, baby, baby, oh—_and suddenly, for some unknown reason, I think of Katniss. "Bye, Gale." Oh. I forgot Posy was there.

"Bye, Posy." And with that, she leaves. I immediately change the radio station, and soon enough I wish I hadn't.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning__  
><em>_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs__  
><em>_Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal…_

What? This is utter crap. Who writes songs about cereal anyway?

_It's Friday, Friday,__  
><em>_Gotta get down on Friday__  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend  
><em>_Friday, Friday,  
><em>_Gettin' down on Friday  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend  
><em>_Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah  
><em>_Fun, fun, fun, fun, lo__okin' forward to the weekend…_

I change the station and take a deep breath. That was horrible. Absolutely horrible. I hear Posy bouncing down the stairs, but I don't pay attention to her until I realize she's singing the same stupid song I heard on the radio before I changed the station. "Posy!" I growl. "Shut up!" Lucky for me, Posy stops and goes away.

Well, just then, my luck ran out, because the radio is playing that song again. _Friday, Friday—_

I bang my head on the wall repeatedly—I think I'm about to go mad. Why. Won't. It. Stop?


	7. Glimmer

**LOL this chapter was fun to write.:) **

**My friend helped me with this chapter. She gave me the idea: make Glimmer beautiful, vain and dumb. So all the misspellings here were done on purpose, because Glimmer typed them and I think Glimmer is a dunce. XD**

**Review and you'll get a cookie: (::)**

**Don't flame! :(**

***As of 7/30/11: Artyfan said: **_"__See, that's my problem with it. Everyone portrays Glimmer as beautiful, vain, dumb, and useless. Beautiful, yes. That's been said. Vain? I'm even willing to concede maybe. But dumb and useless? Hello, she was a Career. She trained for her entire life to kill people. She's not useless in a fight. She isn't like someone who would stand back complaining about her nails or whatever. She might not be overly intelligent, but she wasn't stupid."_

**I would like to inform all who think the same: IT WAS EXAGGERATED. It was done on purpose. Dumb and useless? Again, I was exaggerating. Look at the genre! PARODY. HUMOR. What I define as 'parody' is making characters OOC on purpose. If you have a different definition... well, too bad.**

**THIS FIC IS A PARODY. It's not always to be taken so seriously! Lighten up, people! :)**

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><p>I brush my blond locks carefully. I hold the mirror up to my face, and I see a beautiful girl with blond hair and emerald eyes. Oh, wait, that's me. Wait… I think I see something on my face. I hold the mirror a little closer, and I see a tiny black thing poking out of my forehead. Oh my, gosh! I've seen one of those things before! My sister, Cissy, used to have those things all the time!<p>

What's it called again? If I remember correctly, it starts with a z. Oh, wait. That's right. A zit.

HOLY CRAP, I HAVE A ZIT ON MY FACE!

I can't believe that I actually fell for that! Afterlife was a place without pain, without suffering. Pooh! No pain? No suffering? This zit IS pain! This zit IS suffering! Are they blind or something?

Oh my, gosh. I have to let everyone know immediately.

I head to the room with the many, many machines. Wait. These 'machines' have a name. But what is it? I go over to the guy supervising the use of the machines. "Hey," I say, putting a hand on my beautiful, curvy waist. "Can I use one of those things?" I point to a machine.

He looks bored. "Yeah, sure, you could use a computer_._ Just avoid using Facebook to try communicating with the living, all right?" he says. I flip my lovely hair and stride over to one of the machines.

I login to Facebook and type on the status bar: _O my, gsh! I tink I hve a zit on my face!_ _I tink its bcuz Im always so bord… _It looks kind of wrong, because these curvy red lines start appearing under some of the words. But oh well. I don't care. I click 'Share'.

Immediately, a chat window pops up. It's Cato!

_Cato: "Yo, Glimmer. You're bored, you say?"_

I start typing a message: "_Yes." _And I send it.

_Cato: "Try listening to Friday by Rebecca Black. It's on my wall. Go check it out, Glimmer! It's just about as epic as me."_

I click a link that takes me to Cato's profile, and I see it: Friday by Rebecca Black. I click the button that points to the right: the 'Play' button. _Oooh, oooh, yeah, yeah, yeah, 7 a.m. waking up in the morning, gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs…_

I listen until it is finished. Hmm! I like this song. It's… what's the word? Oh yes! Great. It's great.

But I most certainly am greater.


	8. President Snow

**Sorry for the late update! T_T Lots of homework/projects/exams lately...**

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><p>I sit on the comfortable armchair next to the table. Despite my… sins, they let me have this room. I must say, I am quite lucky.<p>

I take a sip from the mug of coffee I conjured up. Yes, it is possible. In the Afterlife, anything is possible. I conjure up a cookie and a rose to pin on the lapel of my suit. I munch on the cookie slowly after pinning the rose to my suit. Before I know it, there are cookie crumbs all over my magnificent suit. Agh.

I brush them off. But much to my regret, I had conjured a chocolate chip cookie so there are cookie crumbs AND chocolate crumbs all over my suit. Ack. Absolutely terrifyingly disgusting! I stare at my suit, and I see small brown stains. How barbaric.

Suddenly, I hear a _beep._ "Attention," a voice booms. It's the intercom, I suppose. "Attention, everyone! I apologize, but may I take a minute of your time? There is something you must listen to. It's absolutely…" the voice trails off.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning__  
><em>_Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs__  
><em>_Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal__  
><em>_Seein' everything the time is goin'_

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'__  
><em>_Gotta get down to the bus stop__  
><em>_Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat__  
><em>_Sittin' in the back seat__  
><em>_Gotta make my mind up__  
><em>_Which seat can I take?_

_It's Friday, Friday,__  
><em>_Gotta get down on Friday__  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend__  
><em>_Friday, Friday,__  
><em>_Gettin' down on Friday__  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend__  
><em>_Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah__  
><em>_Fun, fun, fun, fun, lookin' forward to the weekend…_

What the heck was that? "This song is found in the music store, for free. But I advise you not to buy it! It is absolutely horrendous, isn't it?" the voice asks. I must say, I agree. I pick up my mug of coffee and eye it carefully. Is it possible for me to want to die again?


	9. Buttercup

**Well, it's not the best chapter... sorry. It's 9 in the evening and I still have a Chinese exam tomorrow... NOOO. Yeah, Buttercup here is OOC on purpose. Originally, I wanted to write 'caramelldansen' instead of 'cha-cha' here, but I figured they might not have caramelldansen in New Panem. D:**

**So yeah. This story is pretty much a continuation of the first chapter in Buttercup's POV, plus Buttercup's reaction. At the end of Mockingjay, I figured that Katniss and Buttercup were friends, but I decided to kind of... go against that. ;)**

**I don't remember where I got the name 'Blondie'. But, some people refreshed my memory. Thank you! I remember reading 'Cats' by deschanel10. In that story, Buttercup calls Peeta 'Blondie'. So I guess that's where I got it from. **

**Enjoy. :D**

**Please review, and don't flame. :)**

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><p>I hear Blondie say, "Hey, Katniss, you should listen to this." Blondie is Katniss's boyfriend. He has blond hair—kind of obvious—big blue eyes and bulky shoulders. I don't recall his name, but Blondie reminds me of Prim, except for the bulky shoulders part.<p>

I watch as Katniss catches the CD he throws at her. She shoves it into the CD player and she presses a button on a black rectangle thingy with many red buttons. I think I heard Blondie call it a 'remote control'. Let's leave it at that, then.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning_  
><em>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<em>  
><em>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal<em>  
><em>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'_  
><em>Gotta get down to the bus stop<em>  
><em>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends…<em>

I decide to stay and listen some more. So far, it's all right. But the songs Prim used to sing are far better. _Prim…_ thinking of her brings tears to my eyes and makes me want to curl up in front of the fire and sleep and not wake up ever again.

_Kickin' in the front seat  
>Sittin' in the back seat<br>Gotta make my mind up  
>Which seat can I take?<em>

_It's Friday, Friday,_  
><em>Gotta get down on Friday<em>  
><em>Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend<em>  
><em>Friday, Friday,<em>  
><em>Gettin' down on Friday<em>  
><em>Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend<em>  
><em>Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah<em>  
><em>Fun, fun, fun, fun, lookin' forward to the weekend…<em>

Finally, the song stops playing. "PEETA!" Katniss shouts at Blondie. Oh. So that's his name. "What is this crap?"

Crap? It's not that bad, actually. I mean, I like Fridays. And this song? It's really catchy. I feel like throwing my paws up in the air and dancing the cha-cha. I hiss. I wish I could tell Katniss, "It's not so bad," but I know she wouldn't listen. Plus, no matter how many times I hiss, I can't actually talk, so…

"It's Friday by Rebecca Black. It was recorded thousands of years ago, way before Panem existed. Johanna found it in her compartment in District Thirteen," Blondie—I mean, Peeta replies. "Then she sent it to me, saying, 'it was something that would blow your mind off.' And it most certainly did."

"I'm going to rip her throat out," Katniss mutters just loud enough for me to hear. I hiss again. "See! Buttercup agrees with me!" She hisses back. I turn around and leave. Katniss was always mean. What's new about that?


	10. President Coin

**Yay! Coin! I have to thank the user Death X By Chocolate for giving me the idea for this one. Thank you! (Um, sorry about the missing periods. Document Manager won't let me place them there.)**

**And thank you so much for all of the reviews! I really appreciate that. I never thought I'd get 57! It's a dream come true. ****Today, I'm turning 12, and I'm glad I have so many good reviews. Thanks everyone!**

**The usual: No flames. Please review - if you will, well, you'll make my day even better. **

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><p>I snap my fingers. "Abracadabra mumbo-jumbo! Mail, please," I say, holding out my left palm. Suddenly, a stack of mail appears. Yes! My mail! I pick through them one at a time, my enthusiasm about the mail slowly slipping away as I read each one. Punishment. A lot of them are about punishment. They sort of came like this:<p>

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><p><em>Dear Ms. Coin,<em>

_We understand that in your previous life, you were the president of the Thirteenth District of Panem, and one of the people behind the second rebellion. When the rebellion succeeded and the Capitol fell, we also understand that you intended to take power._

_But through your thoughts, actions, and words, we have realized that you were a power-hungry tyrant that wanted to gain sovereignty over the entire Panem. So because we worry for the safety of the Afterlife, we intend to send you to a prison where you will be executed (again) in due time._

_Thank you for your time._

_The Afterlife, Department of Purgatory_

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><p>What? So they think I'm a 'power-hungry tyrant,' eh? And that even though I can discipline the entire District Thirteen, I cannot discipline myself?<p>

I find myself relaxing when I reach the last one. I open the envelope, and search for any signs of the words 'prison,' 'president,' and 'Panem.' Phew. There are none. I keep on reading.

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><p><em>Dear Ms. Coin,<em>

_We understand that you have received our previous letter regarding your death sentence. However, we are willing to undo your sentence if you can survive through one hundred million replays of this song._

_A music player is attached, which will play as soon as you finish reading this letter._

_Thank you for your time._

_The Afterlife, Department of Purgatory_

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><p>Suddenly, the song as mentioned by the letter starts playing.<p>

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'_  
><em>Gotta get down to the bus stop<em>  
><em>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends…<em>

Hmm, it's not so bad. It's actually kind of catchy… wait. That's not right. I mean, it's really, really, really catchy. I stand up and start snapping with the music. My foot taps along with the beat. Memories overcome me, and I'm back in the past, learning how to dance the caramelldansen. The steps come back to me, and control me like a puppeteer would control his puppet. I think I can live through one hundred million replays of this song…

Suddenly, I hear the door open. Hmm, must be my imagination. I keep dancing. "Ms. Coin…?"

Oh, no.


	11. Finnick Odair

**Not the best chapter... sorry. I wrote this in a hurry. (Sort of)**

**Hey people! Thanks for making my birthday special. (:  
>Note: I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, or Facebook, for that matter. :D<strong>

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><p>I type the URL for Facebook, and the homepage appears. I log in to my account. Hmm. Interesting. I have one message. I click it, and I find out it's from Cato.<p>

_To: Finnick Odair _

_From: Cato _

_Subject: Hey! Listen to this!_

_Message: Yo, Finnick! Dude! Wazzuuppp! Remember me? Well, it's Cato! And I know something you should listen to! Your wife and your son Finn absolutely DIG this song! Go to Youtube, and search for Friday by Rebecca Black! –Cato._

I reply: _Duuude! I have a son? Really? NO FRICKIN' WAY, MAN! :O –Finnick. _And I send it.

An answer from Cato comes almost immediately. _YEAH MAN. You didn't know? What kind of dad are you anyway? –Cato._

I open another tab, and type the URL for Youtube. The website appears, and I type on the search bar: Friday by Rebecca Black. I click a result, and I start listening.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning_  
><em>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal_

_Seein' everything the time is goin'_

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat  
>Sittin' in the back seat<br>Gotta make my mind up  
>Which seat can I take?<em>

WHAT? How can Annie and my son like this song? Cato must be lying, then.

I send him another message.

_To: Cato _

_From: Finnick Odair _

_Subject: YOU ARE A LIAR, CATO!_

_Message: No frickin' way, Cato! You're a liar! How could you say that Annie and Finn 'absolutely DIG this song' when it… when it… it's so horrible that I can't describe it! If you make me listen to that song again, I swear you're gonna regret it!_


	12. Beetee

**Sorry if this chapter isn't very funny... ****Well, I've gotten requests for Beetee. Here it is! I think I'll do Prim next. Or Rue. I still have no idea what their reactions will be... Got any ideas? PM me, and I'll credit you. I promise. (:**

**Please review! No flames please.**

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><p>My gaze is fixed on the computer screen as I wave my cursor around, trying to locate my picture of my invention in this mess of a desktop. I sigh as I browse through the contents. <em>Taping of the 32nd Hunger Games. Video Recording of the Coin Scandal. <em>Ah, the Coin scandal—I remember that. It's a scandal wherein President Coin was caught kissing… Actually, forget it. Never mind.

"Beetee," my colleague, Bob, says. "Check my e-mail for me, would you?" I move my cursor around (again) and search for the icon that allows me to access the Internet.

At last, I find it. I double click the icon, and head to . I'll check _my_ e-mail first. It'll be quick. Bob doesn't have to know. I log in, and I see an e-mail from Annie, who I've befriended after her husband died.

_To: Beetee (BeeTeeofDistrictThree)_

_From: Annie Cresta Odair (ILoveYouFinnick)_

_Subject: Hi!_

_Message: Good morning, Beetee. How are you? I hope you're alright. We haven't spoken in a while—a year, maybe? Yes, a year. Finn has grown remarkably in your absence, but he still remembers you as the guy with the 'fancy glasses'. He's looking more and more like Finnick as each day passes. *Sigh* Children grow up so fast…_

_P.S. Recently, I heard this song called Friday by Rebecca Black. It's great! You should listen to it. Finn and I loved it. Finnick would, too, if he heard it._

_From,_

_Annie_

I sign out. I will answer Annie's e-mail later. I open another tab and type as the URL. "Bob," I say. "You should listen to this." Bob glances at me, his eyebrow raised.

I search for Friday by Rebecca Black, and when the results show up, I click the third result.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_T__ickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends…_

I listen to the rest of the song.

Suddenly, I hear someone laughing hysterically. It can only be Bob. "HAHAHA—ohmygosh that is so—HAHAHAHA…!" Bob shouts. It's official. Bob has gone crazy.

Just then, I realize that my vision is getting distorted. It must be my glasses. They're probably dirty. I take my glasses off, and pull out the piece of cloth I use to clean them. I prepare to rub the lenses, only to find out that the lenses are cracked.

"Hey, Beetee," Bob says, looking at my poor, ruined glasses, "did you know that… HAHAHAHA… you just heard horrible singing? Haven't you heard that when you hear horrible singing, your glasses will break?"

"I thought that only happened in cartoons," I tell him.

"Well, apparently… HAHAHA… that's not true!"


	13. Prim and Rue

**Prim and Rue, as requested by many people. I hope you enjoy. Oh, who am I kidding...? I'm sorry that this chapter isn't very funny. Honestly, I couldn't imagine Prim's and Rue's reactions to the song, so... it ended up being like this. Also I'm sorry for any Prim/Rue OOCness. I'm not used to writing Prim or Rue...**

**I DO NOT OWN FRIDAY BY REBECCA BLACK, NOR DO I OWN THE HUNGER GAMES BY SUZANNE COLLINS.**

**Review? Please? :)**

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><p>"Hey," I say to my best friend. Primrose Everdeen smiles at me, indicating that I have her full attention now. "Do you want to head to the arcade? I heard they've got some cool new songs there." Prim nods.<p>

"Sure," she replies. "I'd love to. Let's go." We head over to the arcade. There are many spirits there, dancing to the music put on by the DJ. I grin. This looks like fun.

"Next up is Friday by Rebecca Black!" the DJ announces. "This song is a _big _hit in the living world. So we decided to secretly record it and let the spirits enjoy the same thing." Friday? That sounds interesting…

"Friday? That sounds interesting," Prim says, voicing my thoughts. I look at her in surprise. "What? You're just that predictable, Rue," she adds, laughing. Prim is so much like me—forget what she just said about me being predictable; we think the same things—that it's scary.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat  
>Sittin' in the back seat<br>Gotta make my mind up  
>Which seat can I take?<em>

_It's Friday, Friday,  
>Gotta get down on Friday<br>Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend  
>Friday, Friday,<br>Gettin' down on Friday  
>Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend<br>Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah  
>Fun, fun, fun, fun, lookin' forward to the weekend…<em>

I listen to a few more verses of the song, and then, I start whistling along to it. What? It's catchy. I look to my side and I see Prim snapping her fingers along with the beat. "I love this song," Prim says. "It's catchy."

"I'm glad we agree," I reply. Okay, so maybe we're dead, but who says you can't make friends in the Afterlife? "Hey, Prim, why don't you start dancing instead of snapping? That'll do you a lot of good. Especially since you loved Buttercup's dance so much," I tease her.

Prim pouts, and it ends up being so funny I can't help but laugh hysterically.


	14. Gale's Wife, My OC

**Since I couldn't think of anything else, I chose to do Gale's wife. She is my OC, and her name is Mary Sue. Coincidence much? XD**

**Review! Review! Review!...Please? No flaming!  
>**I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black. Nor do I own the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. <strong>

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><p>I run my fingers through my red tresses. Beautiful. I look into the mirror, and I see myself. I am absolutely gorgeous. I take out my cell phone and dial my boyfriend's number with my wonderfully manicured hands. "Hellooooo?" I say, drawing out my 'O's on purpose. I mean, don't you think it's absolutely <em>fabulous<em> that way?

"Sue, honey," says my boyfriend, Plutarch. "You'll be sleeping with me tonight?"

"Of course, sweetheart," I reply. "How could I not? I just can't wait, darling…" I hear the door creak open. "Oops, got to go. See you tonight, my love." He murmurs his reply, and hangs up. The door opens completely, revealing my red-faced forty year old husband.

"Mary Sue, how could you do this to me?" Gale shouts. "I-I… I can't believe you!" He slams the door.

"Gale, wait—!" I say, but it's too late. Oh, well.

Two hours later, the door opens again, this time revealing a woman with short brown hair and wide-set eyes. I know that woman; she's been over many times. "Well, well, well, Johanna Mason," I purr. "What brings you here on this very, very fine day?"

"Let's not play pretend, Mary Sue Ann Barbie Princess or whatever your name is," she growls. "I want you to answer all of my questions honestly, alright?" I remain emotionless. She sneers. "It's not like you have a choice, anyway. Okay. So you cheat on your husband, Gale. Real or not real?"

I gulp. "Not real."

"For that one lie, you get punishment. Radio, please," Johanna says. I see Gale's hairy arms drop a radio, _my_ radio into Johanna's arms. She sets it down on the floor and plugs it to a socket in the wall. She fiddles with it a little, and music starts playing.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat  
>Sittin' in the back seat<br>Gotta make my mind up  
>Which seat can I take?<em>

For some reason, I start laughing hysterically. Johanna looks at me strangely. Well, no matter how many times Johanna looks at me like that, this song will never be punishment. I. So. Freaking. Love. This. Song. Plutarch does, too. We dance to this song every single day. "Time for Plan B," I hear Johanna mutter.

When my laughter starts to die down, Johanna says in a loud voice, "Axe, please."


	15. Kata Rue Mellark

**Not very funny, sorry. I'll change Kata's reaction when I think of a better one. If not, well... I'm sorry. D:**

**OH MY GOSH 118 REVIEWS! Thankyouthankyouthankyou so much, readers! I couldn't have done it without you.**

**By the way, in case you're confused, Kata's name is pronounced as "Kay-ta" not "Kat-ta".:)**

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><p><em>My name is Kata Rue Mellark. I am ten years old, nearly eleven. I am the third child of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. I have a big sister, Elli Primrose who was named after my dead aunt, and a big brother, Andrew Orion, who was named after the constellation. Elli is seventeen and Andy is fourteen. I was named after my mother's friend Rue, who died in the Hunger Games.<em>

I constantly try to say that over and over, like a chant. Mommy does that, and it works with her. But somehow, it doesn't work with me. I wonder why. Oh, and speaking of my mother…

"Mommy," I ask. I hold up a disc labeled 'Friday'. "What's this?"

"Oh," Mommy groans. "I guess your father didn't throw that out yet like I asked him to." She sighs. "Oh, Katey, will you do me a small favor and ask your father to throw that… that _thing_ away?" I do not move from my spot. "Kata, don't wait for me to count to three—!" I scowl. Am I such a baby that my mother still needs to do the count-to-three thing with me?

"Mom," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Please. I'm not a kid anymore. You don't need to do the count-to-three thingo with me. I'm ten years old." I mean, she doesn't do this with Elli and Andy, so why should she do this with me?

"Kata," she says, "back when I was a child… ten-year-olds were considered young. You just ask Haymitch."

I don't try to argue with that. Mommy _always _wins in an argument. And besides, I don't want to ask Haymitch. As cool as he sounds, every time we visit him, he's always drunk. And that is _not _cool. I twist my tiny braid around my finger. "Okay, okay," I reply. "So… what is this?" I show her the disc. Mommy frowns.

"Are you sure you want to listen to that?"

Being the curious person I am, I say, "Of course," even though I wasn't really sure. Mommy takes a deep breath, as if she doesn't agree with what I am about to do. She takes the disc from me and places it inside the ancient CD player, which Aunt Effie gave my parents five Christmases before Elli was born.

"I'm surprised that this thing still works," Mommy says, breaking the silence. I shrug. I hear a few scratching noises coming from the CD player that almost make my ears bleed. They sound like nails scratching a chalkboard.

Finally, the song starts playing.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

_Kickin' in the front seat  
>Sittin' in the back seat<br>Gotta make my mind up  
>Which seat can I take?<em>

I don't need a mirror for this. My own horror is mirrored in my mother's face. A frown is etched on her face, and her brows are furrowed in concentration. She's probably thinking of ways to destroy the disc. At last, the song finishes, and silence settles over us. Finally, Mommy says, "I told you so, didn't I? Curiosity killed the cat."

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><p><strong>That reminds me! I have to credit the person whom I got the word 'thingo' from. Thanks, Joey! (The Crazzees knows who I'm talking about. Speaking of The Crazzees, be sure to check out her profile and her Percy Jackson and Kane Chronicles crossover story, "The Twisted Summer".)<strong>


	16. Foxface

**Chapter sixteen! Foxface, as requested by some. :)**

**I tried to make this one funny... sorry if it's a big fail anyway. I am also sorry for any grammatical errors, as I haven't studied past participle/present progressive/past tense in a _long _time. But, if you do spot grammatical errors, please PM me about it and I'll change it. **

**Got any suggestions for the next chapter? This will be a twenty-chapter fic.**

**Please review. :)**

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><p><em>"Foxface." "Foxy!" "Hey, Fox-fox!"<em>

_I would scowl. "My name isn't Foxface, Foxy, or even Fox-fox. It's Mara," I'd growl. Then, I would stick my tongue out at them._

_That was how I lived most of my life—and that wasn't the worst part of it. I got thrown into the freaking Hunger Games for Pete's sake! How could you say I've experienced anything worse? When I was a tribute in the Games, I'd wake up each day and experience a new horror. There's nothing worse than that._

_Or so I thought._

"Mara," says the tender voice of my former mother. "Wake up." Yeah, she was my former mother. It's kind of complicated. Here in the Afterlife, no dead person is your mother, your father, or even your friend. No one here is who they used to be. In a way, living here in the Afterlife is like… like living another life. When you die and come here, you shed off your identity on Earth.

I had experienced that when I came here. The only things I hadn't shed off were my name and my hair. And _I _was lucky enough to get to keep my hair. A lot of the other spirits are hairless (well, it doesn't matter because no one cares anyway) but everyone has a name.

"Nngh," I groan. "One more minute, Morgan."

"_Mara."_

"Fine," I mumble. I sit up and check the time. I frown. It's so early. "Morgan, it's not even six o' clock yet. Why the hell are you waking me up?" Morgan gasps. Oops, I guess I said the _h _word. Apparently, it's a crime here in the Afterlife.

"You said the _h _word." _I knew it! _"Mara." Morgan pouts. Her right hand is on her waist. "You _promised _you wouldn't say that."

"Okay, okay," I mutter. "I'm sorry. So _why_ are you waking me up so early?"

"I have to show you something," she says proudly. I stand up, and she leads me to her room, which is more of a compartment than an actual room. She lets go of my hand and turns on her radio/CD player. She presses the 'play' button.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

I hit the 'stop' button immediately and head to Morgan's closet. Without thinking, I take one of Morgan's high-heeled shoes and run back to the radio/CD player. Again, without thinking, I bash it again and again. "_M-Mara!" _she shouts. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, _Mom,_" I say sharply. _Well, not really, _I thought. "But then again, why should I be sorry? I just did you a big favor."

"Okay, Mara, I know you like killing people and mutilating them in your free time, but did you _have _to do that? Seriously?" Morgan's face is turning red.

I pause for a moment and consider this. _Did I really have to do that?_

I come up with the best answer I could think of. "Yes."


	17. Madge Undersee

**Basically, Madge thinks that the song is okay. Well, I hope you like it! Another reminder: I DO NOT MEAN TO OFFEND REBECCA BLACK. Honestly, I'm actually alright with Rebecca Black, but I'm not really okay with Friday. I think her new song, My Moment, is better, though! **

**Come to think of it, Rebecca Black is actually quite strong. In a mental/emotional way. I admire her for that.**

**Please review, and please, don't flame.**

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><p>I log in to Facebook and check my profile.<p>

I raise my eyebrow as I read the posts on my wall. They're all by the same person—some guy named Boggs. _Yo, Madge! _says one post. _Madge,,,, marry me pls.! U R so beautiful! _says another. I roll my eyes and type, 'Will you just shut the hell up and go away?' This has been going on for _weeks. _This guy is a freak! He doesn't even have good grammar!I don't even know WHY I accepted his friend request!

I scroll down to the bottom of the page and look at the last twenty viewers of my profile.

The last twenty viewers. Hmm, let's see. _Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs, Boggs. _What. The. Hell. What a stalker. Just out of curiosity, I click the link to Boggs's profile.

_BOGGS WHOISSURNAMELESS_

_Born on Find that out yourself you creepy stalker! _(I scowl at this. Hypocrite!)

_Went to THE CAPITOL_

_Married to Somealivewoman Whoissurnameless_

I click the info tab on his profile and scroll down. In the part of his 'info' tab labeled "Activities and Interests," are: _Stalking Madge Undersee, Cheating on Your Living Wife, Stalking Pretty Girls, Being a Creepy Stalker… _What the fudge, this guy is creepy!

I click on the tab on his profile that says 'Wall,' hoping that his wall will hold better content than… the previous one. There's a video there. Its title is 'Friday' by Rebecca Black. Curious, I click on it and watch it—or rather, listen to it. This song can't be that bad, right? 'Cause if it is… *gulp*

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'_  
><em>Gotta get down to the bus stop<em>  
><em>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends<em>

_Kickin' in the front seat_  
><em>Sittin' in the back seat<em>  
><em>Gotta make my mind up<em>  
><em>Which seat can I take?<em>

I stop the video and silently head to the bottom of the page, where it says 'Block'. My cursor hovers over the link uncertainly before I click on it. I do not want to see this guy's profile ever again! Ugh! The song just adds to the creepiness of Boggs! I like the video, the song is nice, but…

All of a sudden, the guy using the computer beside me clears his throat. "'Scuse me?" he says, peering in to the screen of my computer. "That's a fake profile. I'm Boggs. The _real _one. Agh. Who knew there could be hackers in the Afterlife?"

"Well, I didn't," I reply. "Don't worry, I already blocked the fake you."

"Good. Could you add me?" He gives me the link to his profile.

I type it out on the address bar and I gasp when I see the name that shows up:

_Boggs The REALCreepyStalker_


	18. Wiress

**This chapter is corny. Lmao.**

**But anyway, I hope you like it, despite its corny-ness and crappy ending. Tell me what you think through a review. Don't be shy; just do not flame. ;)**

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><p><em>My name was Wiress Clockworth. I was the victor of the 48th Hunger Games. I was from District Three<em>. Was…

I wake up feeling sad, as I do every single day ever since I died in the arena. It wasn't fair that Beetee, the love of my life, had to be torn away from me so cruelly. He doesn't even know that I…

I've loved Beetee since I was thirteen, nearly fourteen years old. He became my mentor when I entered the Games, and he saved my life countless times since. He was nineteen then…

To make myself a little bit happier, I turn on the radio.

_7 a.m. waking up in the morning  
>Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs<br>Gotta have my bowl gotta have cereal  
>Seein' everything the time is goin'<em>

_Tickin' on and on everybody's rushin'  
>Gotta get down to the bus stop<br>Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends_

"This was Friday by Rebecca Black," says the DJ. "Oh yeah, man, do you know what day it is?" Groans. "It's FRIDAY! Come on, people, let's celebrate!" I hear someone boo. "Oh, come on, kids, don't be such killjoys! We all know that this song is the BEST!"

Apparently, I just landed myself in the Children's 8 AM Radio Show. Argh.

I wait a little bit, hoping to find something more… appropriate.

_Don't stop, make it pop, DJ, blow my speakers up.  
><em>_Tonight, I'mma fight, 'Til we see the sunlight.  
><em>_Tick tock, on the clock, but the party don't stop, no,  
><em>_Whoa, whoa, whoa, oh._

"Tik Tok by Kesha—"

This is the story of my life.

But to be honest…

I turn on my laptop, and I watch as it flickers on. I go to the Internet. Unlike the other people in the Afterlife who have to go to the computer lab, _I _have my own laptop, which I rented. Take that, idiots!

That wasn't very in character of me, was it? No, it wasn't. Curse you, Suzanne Collins, for giving me a shy and quiet identity when I was still alive.

I head to the site of the radio station, and type in the comments area my comment.

The next day, I receive an email from the radio station.

_Dear Ms. Clockworth,_

_Thanks for your comment. It was the best feedback I'd ever received!_

_Lots of love,_

_Rebecca Black, a.k.a. DJ_

What had I placed again? Oh, yeah. I think it went something like this: "_Dear radio station: thank you for putting on Friday by Rebecca Black. IT WAS THE BEST FREAKIN SONG EVERRRR Roflmao all sarcasm intended—it was better than Tik Tok by Kesha anyway." _


	19. Johanna Mason

**Hope you like this chapter. This is the second to the last chapter. The last chapter, the epilogue, is a surprise. I'm sorry if I didn't do the reaction of your requested character. Either I didn't know how they would react, or I forgot. ;)**

**Thank you so much, readers, for sticking with me throughout this story. Think you could help me reach two hundred reviews? xD**

**(This chapter is rated T, btw, just so you know.)**

**Lastly: disclaimer.**

**For the last time, I do not own Friday by Rebecca Black.**

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><p><em>Dear Diary,<em>

_The counselor at Thirteen told me to write in this diary, and I promised myself I wouldn't listen to him. But because I am extremely bored, I am writing this entry in said diary. Also, something happened today that I think should be written down._

_I __was __in __the __convenience __store, __buying __squirrel __blood __and __noodles __for __my __famous __squirrel __blood __stew. __All __of __a __sudden, __the __woman __beside __me __tapped __my __shoulder __and __asked, "__Have __you __listened __to __Friday __by __Rebecca __Black __yet?__"_

_I __shook __my __head __no.__ "__Well, __you __MUST __listen __to __it!__" t__he __woman __exclaimed, __handing __me __her __head phones. __I __reluctantly __took __them __and __placed __them __over __my __ears, __just __so __that __the __woman __will __go __away. __If __killing __wasn__'__t __prohibited __in __District __Seven, __I __would __have __killed __her __already, __but __nooo. __So __I __figured __that __the __best __I __can __do __is __make __her __go __away._

_(Oh, wait, since when have I been a law-abiding citizen?)_

_It's Friday, Friday  
><em>_Gotta get down on Friday  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend  
><em>_Friday, Friday,  
><em>_Gettin' down on Friday  
><em>_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend  
><em>_Partyin' partyin' yeah, partyin' partyin' yeah  
><em>_Fun, fun, fun, fun, lookin' forward to the weekend…_

_I __immediately __handed __the __earphones __back __to __the __mysterious __woman. __She __grinned __at __me __creepily __and __asked,__ "__Well, __did __you __like __it?__"_

_In __response, __I __took __my __can __of __squirrel __blood __and __opened __it, __revealing __dark __red __liquid. __The __air __was __suddenly __filled __with __a __pungent __smell__—__squirrel __blood._

_Leave __me __alone!_

_I __dumped __the __contents __of __the __can __on __her __hair __and __I __watched __happily __as __her __Barbie __(fake!) __blond __hair __became __stained __with __red. __Her __grin __disappeared __and __she __started __screaming. __So __to shut her up__, __I __shoved __the empty__can __of __squirrel __blood __into __her __mouth._

_It__'__s __too __bad __killing __is __against __the __law._

"_What __do __you __think, __*****!__" __I __snapped. __And __then, __I __left._

_Oh, __dear __diary, __I __regret __doing __that __to __the __poor __woman. __I __know __I __should __have __put __her __out __of __her __misery, even if doing that was against the law (the woman would thank me for it anyway). __I __shouldn__'__t __have __humiliated __her __in __the __stupid __store. __I __should __have __killed __her __and __used _her _blood __for __my __squirrel __blood stew__. __Now _THAT _would __taste __great._

_-Johanna_

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><p><strong>Okay, this may seem weird at first, but I think I should let you know that this is kind of a supplement to Chapter Fourteen (the one about Gale's wife). It takes place after that. And Johanna is NOT planning to eat the blood stew. She's planning to feed the blood stew to Gale's wife as punishment for cheating on Gale. <strong>


	20. Epilogue: World War 4

_**Whew!**_** Finally finished. I hope you like this chapter. I know I took over a month to post this and I'm sorry. Thanks for all the support for this story. (:**

**R&R! Oh yeah, at the end when Katniss says that this is World War 4... well, here's my logic. World Wars 1 and 2 have already happened. And let's just say that World War 3 was the one that destroyed America and left it in ruins-Panem. But WW4 is just getting started! ;)]**

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><p><em>One hundred years later…<em>

Katniss, Peeta, Haymitch, Cato, Gale, President Snow, Finnick, Beetee, Kata, Foxface, Madge, Wiress, and Johanna were gathered around a glass table.

Haymitch sharpened his knife. "Now that we've gathered every single person in Panem who had listened to this song and had hated it, what do we do?" He turned to Johanna. "Sweetheart, remember, _you_planned this," he added with a hint of accusation in his voice. Johanna shrugged and reached for her axe.

"Okay, so maybe I haven't reached that far in the plan yet." Johanna glared at everybody.

"We have to confront her," Peeta replied quietly. "Rebecca Black, I mean. We should tell her what we really think about her song."

"Wonderful idea, Mr. Mellark!" President Snow exclaimed, clapping.

Kata stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "I know you; you're that evil guy back in my mother's time."

Finnick patted Kata's shoulder. "I see they taught you well." He shot a look at President Snow. "And since when have you started supporting Peeta's ideas? Don't tell me you've converted and turned good or something."

President Snow shrugged. "Hey, we're all united against one cause. I have no choice."

Johanna glared at him. "Are you bi or something?"

"Bi? You mean bisexual?" President Snow laughed. "Maybe, Ms. Mason."

"I didn't mean that! But thanks for your confession," Johanna replied hotly. "I meant bi_polar_, idiot."

"So what should we call ourselves?" Madge interrupted. "We need a name, you know. So it would be easier for the author of this story to write us in." Everyone stared at Madge in confusion. There was an _author?_ Madge shrugged. "Hey, I'm psychic. Not crazy."

"More of paranoid," Cato muttered. "Weren't you the one with the crazy stalker? If you were psychic, then you would've known who he was. And you would have avoided him in the first place."

"Shut up, you're not making any sense," Madge snapped.

"Hey, hey, hey," Beetee said. "Stop! We need to cooperate and make decisions as one! It is essential if we want to continue on with Johanna's plan."

Gale added, "He's right. We need to cooperate." He turned to Madge. "And she's right, too. It would be easier."

"I know!" Foxface—a.k.a. Mara—added. "How about the Anti-Blacks?"

"No, that's very racist, sweetheart," Haymitch told her. He took a swig of booze.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Katniss asked. She turned to Peeta accusingly. "You didn't give him any booze, did you?"

"Katniss, we're dead. There is no booze in the Afterlife," Peeta answered. "Okay, this is what I think we should name our group. Let's name our group the Army. It's simple, and it's not racist or sexist or whatever."

"Peeta is correct," Wiress said, speaking for the first time. "The Army sounds good."

Exactly three hours after their 'conference', the Army stormed through the gigantic doors leading to Rebecca Black's room. Katniss aimed an arrow at Rebecca, who was sitting in her throne. "Hail, Queen of the Underworld. We have come to tell you how terrible your song 'Friday' is."

"SHUT UP!" someone behind the Army screamed. Katniss spun around and saw Glimmer standing behind them with a hand on her waist. Behind her was President Coin, Effie, Annie, Finn, Buttercup, Rue, and… Prim? "We have come to praise you, Queen Rebecca!" yelled Glimmer.

Haymitch held up his dagger and turned to face the Army. "Prepare for battle! Now!"

Kata whispered to Katniss, "Mom, what _is_this? I don't get what Uncle Haymitch is saying."

"Honey," Katniss replied. "What Uncle Haymitch is saying basically means, 'Welcome to World War 4.'"


End file.
